


All Worth It For You

by WinterWraith



Series: Tony is a merman, willingly or not [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arno Stark - Freeform, Captain America - Freeform, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Iron Man - Freeform, Male Friendship, Mentor/Protégé, Mermaids, Merperson Tony Stark, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Stephen Strange, Parent Tony Stark, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Werewolf!Steve, may be ooc at times sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 01:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterWraith/pseuds/WinterWraith
Summary: GAIA is a dangerous organization that doubles as a cult. Having sent HYDRA to its explosive end, Steve was sent into the fray to gather information before SHIELD makes its next move. But everything changed when Steve was forced overboard into the Atlantic Ocean by a GAIA agent, who has the ability to shift into a merman. Steve is thrown into a world he never thought existed, and he must protect it from the cult.______________Tony was on an outing with his brother Arno, taking their new iron suits for a spin, when a human dropped into the Ocean, followed immediately by a strange Merrow. But when it became clear that the merman planned to kill the human, the brothers had to intervene. Tony can tell that the human is special. Special enough to keep hidden from Father.(summary to change as story develops)





	1. Underwater / We'll Protect You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all :)  
> This is my first time posting on this site. Also this work is relatively young and prone to (moderate to heavy) editing so I apologize in advance!

Where did he go wrong?

A cloud of glimmering silver bubbles raced past him to the surface. His world, once clear and vibrant with a plethora of colors and sounds, was now darkening with the color blue, a monotonous pounding ruthlessly crashing into his head.

Steve's orders were clear. He was to infiltrate a GAIA ship and disable its communications. Incapitate all enemies. Gather intel for SHIELD review. Leave. Debrief.

Green-gold scales filled his vision, a tail twirling and flicking with minimal effort. The vice grip on his legs grew tighter. Pain flared just above his ankles; the merman's claws dug deep into his skin, constantly slicing his flesh with each movement of his tail.

Steve expected to be intercepted at any time. It's happened before, it'll happen again. He did not expect a man to slam him over the railing of the ship and plunge in after him. Steve had lashed out with his shield, the metal slicing through the water, but it hit nothing. He kicked, again and again, but the sharp hands always returned.

The merman yanked him downwards with such force that bubbles shot out of Steve's mouth; in an instant a clawed hand wrapped itself around his throat. Pain exploded behind his eyes when the man slammed Steve's head against the sandy floor.

"You've become unbelievably annoying, Captain." The merman's voice rang clear in the blue. His name was Ross Sweinden, Steve remembered, GAIA's pack of muscle. They had met before, only a week ago, when Ross had nearly bested him in combat. Steve was impressed, he respected Ross's strength; the man would've made a worthy Avenger if only he wasn't so eager to use brute force. "How's about we end this?"

Steve didn't bother to reply as his fingers twitched, aching to remove the oppressive hand. His vision was darkening, a black fuzz consuming his world. Water forced itself into his mouth, down into his lungs. A tight burn in his throat chest contrasted the chill of the blue void around him.

Ross shook him. "Don't die on me, Steve!" His grip on Steve's neck tightened--and then loosened.

Steve didn't have the energy to wonder why. The black fuzz was now invading his mind, peaceful and comforting and urging him to just _let go, you've lived long enough, Peggy is waiting, you've got a date._ Yes, he's given his all to this era, hasn't he? He built up the Avengers, stopped an alien invasion, and found and liberated his friend. What more could the world, could S.H.I.E.L.D., want from him?

_The Avengers will survive. They will take care of everyone_

_Let go, Steve._

Blue filled his vision again, unusually bright. Although Steve's vision was blurred with pain--head injury, he had to remain awake--he saw that a face was before him. It wasn't Ross; no, a dark-haired man stared at him, a sharp-toothed but relieved smile on his face.

Steve couldn't tear his gaze from the merman's eyes. His irises and pupils were glowing the same blue that shined out from his strange metal suit. The werewolf was transfixed.  


Too soon a smooth, featureless mask slid down over the merman's face. He turned to the left and, his voice hosting a mechanical undertone, clicked and whistled at a companion.

In a similar mechanical suit--this one black and silver and glowing orange--was his friend. Whether it was a machine or a merperson in a metal shell, they easily and repeatedly overpowered Ross. The GAIA agent snarled and swiped but he knew he was outmatched. When the orange merman glanced at Blue, he swung in place and bolted away.

Steve really wouldn't be surprised if Ross was the type to swear revenge.

Blue and orange, gray and black, filled his vision. Unnaturally smooth fingers and arms wrapped themselves around the joint connecting his arms to his shoulders and hoisted him up with a gentleness he only recieved from Natasha.

Above him was the moon, its form wavering erratically. Werewolves and the Moon, people thought the two had a connection. Dr. Erskine never mentioned the effects the moon had on werewolves or even human-turned-werewolves, and Steve never felt any more powerful under a full moon than he did under a crescent moon. But he prayed anyway, begging whatever--if anything--possessed the moon to heal the concussion he knew he'd have, that it wouldn't last too long, that he'd get to go back to the surface, that Natasha and the others search for him.

* * *

Tony knew his father hated humans. Something about a human male chasing him when he was a pup. So when--and it _is_ a when, because Father had his ways of worming secrets from their holders--Tony's big Star was found...well, the young Princes will ensure he gets sent to the wealthiest quadrant in the human community.

For the second time in their hold, Star went limp. A concussion. Tony knew what those were like, to fall unconcious again and again, to sometimes forget what happened, to have the life sucked out of you at the mere flick of a tail--or leg, in Star's case. All he and Arno could do was swim as fast as they could manage to Strange's Sanctum and keep him as still as possible in their arms.

"He's different, this Star of yours," Arno warbled.

Tony nodded. Even in the water, humans had a partictular taste to them. But Star's taste was warped, human but not-human. "So how deep do we need to bury this secret?" Because if Father found Star he'll know immediately that Star is in some way special, and he'll have him tested. And if there was anything Father loved more than his own sons, it was prestige and the admiration (cough _jealousy_ cough) that came with it.

"Pretend-he-doesn't-exist deep." Arno led them in a dive though a cavern filled with shrimp and spiders.

"Ah, my weakness." But Tony heard the implication in his brother's words: _We should've stayed home._ But that only hardened Tony's resolve to help and protect the not-human. There was something about him that lured Tony to him, something that Tony knew would be worth the hell Father will eventually put him through. As they emerged into the depths again, Tony spared Star a glance. His head was up, turning left and right as they passed swarms of bioluminescent jellyfish, but his movements were sluggish.

In the distance were the upper shelves of the Subduon, the trench Eingara was built in: the shelves of the poor, of the merchants and traders and artisans, and of the Upper Military. Piercing through the encompassing darkness were the lights, glittering and flashing red, blue, green, and yellow. The Sanctum was more attuned to the wealthy while still remaining quite a swim away; it was located right at the bottom of the trench.

"There're going to be a lot of curious fish," warned the elder of the brothers, angling them toward the bright lights. His gray face plate lifted, revealing a thoughtful frown. "Star still needs time to acclimate. If we take him down there, we'll have another flounder."

Tony nodded, lifting his own face plate. When they were still pups there was news of a Merrow who'd saved a human and brought them down to the depths. But even with the newfound abilities to breathe underwater and survive its bone-reaching chill, the human still had yet to adapt to the crushing darkness. By the time the Merrow reached bottom of the trench, the human "looked more like a flounder."

And Tony did _not_ want to be the traumatized owner of a flounder.

There was a human community up on the shelf called Weifsafir. It was high enough that Star would not succumb to the pressure. For now, they were Star's best chance at survival.

As if they were sharks on the prowl the civilians cleared the way for their princes as they swept through the city, their eyes lingering on the limp not-human in their grasp. They hummed and clicked theories to one another but none were arrogant enough to intercept them. Tony prayed that they couldn't catch Star's taste in the water, prayed that a noble adorned with peridot, gold, and/or a rainbow of pearls wouldn't be in the crowd.

The human living area was a time capsule, a timeline of trends that dominated the stonemasonry field mixed with the myriad of surface cultures. The first humans, chosen suvivors from shipwrecks throughout the centuries, were dumped in towns of jagged and shoddy stonework. Generations passed, and new divsions were added, the stonework displaying floral and animal reliefs as well as strange geometric patterns.

Displaying a mixture of whale and dolphin reliefs and curving lines was the hospital, one of the largest buildings in western division. Like the Merrow civilians, the humans threw themselves out the way of the royals, signing to one another and pointing to Star.

Clusters of pillar coral lights bathed the inside of the reception area with kelp yellows and sky blues. The receptionist, an elderly woman, lifted her head as the princes swam up to her. Seeing that their load was limp, her eyes widened and she thrust herself from the desk. The woman pointed to a white-lit hallway on her right and swam off.

The room the receptionist led them to was lit with a white coral light that was growing downwards from the ceiling. The stony floor was carpeted with sea grass and the walls swayed with vibrant anemones and soft corals. To the left of the doorway was a wall-long counter, all its contents sorted into neat groups. In the middle of the room was a mechanical bed fashioned into a mussel shell, fitted with sealskin sheets. The princes lay Star down on the sheets, settling him on his belly.

Star blinked open his eyes. Those little windows to the sky searched the room before fixating on Tony. Confusion was written all over his youthful face.

"You'll be safe here, I promise," Tony assured.


	2. A Swim-In Appointment / Return to Eingara

Steve's memory was littered with holes; waking up was the only indication that he'd ever passed out, and each time the scenery was different. Sand and rock. A bottomless void. Darkness. Lights. Darkness. More lights. A city street?

And now he was here, in a room bathed in white, staring Blue in the face.

The room was carved from stone. There were breaching whales carved into the walls and pods of dolphins playing with one another. Feathery anemones grew on the walls, close to the sea grass floor, swaying in the currents produced from movement.

He was resting on something soft and seamless, but Steve didn't have the energy to check. He stared at Blue. _Where are we?_

The metal-clad merman crooned, his expression soft. He gently pressed a metal hand to Steve's shoulder, which, strangely, soothed him.

Steve sighed, only opening his eyes when the hand pulled away. Blue was staring at someone behind him, making facial expressions that accentuated the motions his hands made. Sign language, but it was unlike the motions Clint used. The smaller lights in Blue's metal body flashed and flickered like strobe lights. Blue pointed to Steve's head and then to his feet, and it was then that Steve felt the dull stinging that swallowed up his feet and reached up to his calves. The werewolf stifled a groan and sagged, letting his eyes flutter closed. How strong was Ross’s grip that his claws pierced through his combat boots?

When Steve opened his eyes Blue was gone, replaced with a woman. Her black hair was tied—somehow—behind her head, but strands still swirled around her head like swirling ink. Her exposed skin was dark yet still strangely pale. How long had she been down here? Was she saved too, and her body slowly transformed to accommodate everything? Or was there a human species adapted to the depths that the surface only knew about in almost-forgotten legends?

The woman—a nurse? a doctor? she was dressed in nothing that reminded him of doctor's scrubs and had a strange instrument looped over her shoulders—smiled at Steve. "Understand?" she asked, signing the word as well.

His eyes widened. He tried to sit up but she shook her head. "I—yes, I understand." Water swished unpleasantly around his mouth and Steve instinctively winced.

"Good. I am Doctor Corella. Can you tell me what you remember? How those wounds appeared?"

Steve recounted his forceful descent into the water, of the merman's claws digging into his skin, of the head injury. He had to quell the sardonic smile pulling at his lips. At least his memory was untouched. For now.

"May I look avir? Though I must ask that you remove your scild and shoes, if you are able."

"Yes, of course." Her wording was odd, to say the least, but Steve wasn't complaining. The mere fact that she spoke English, weird as it was, gave him hope. Hope that he could return to the surface, to New York. So Steve did as she asked, removing his shield and placing in by the hospital bed, as needlessly difficult as it was, and sat up on the bed. His fingers felt fat and clumsy as he fiddled with his boots and rolled up his pants legs.

Dr. Corella swam to his side. She tinkered with the item looped around her neck and it flared a bright yellow color. “Follow the light, please. Eyes only.” Steve did as she asked and, having found nothing wrong, she said, “No immediate signs of brain damage, Misuar Star.” She moved past him and Steve heard the scratching of a utensil on something that sounded like a heavy clipboard.

“Right, now I must see your head.” She pulled on shining gloves and gently prodded about at the back of his head, moving his blond hair aside to gauge the size of his head wound. “It seems to be healing well already, Misuar Star.”

He had the serum to thank for that; in less than a day a simple head injury like that would be gone.

The pressure of her hands left him; an instant later Steve heard her moving items about. With a satisfied sound, the doctor returned and began to slather something cold on his head.

“This’ll help with the healing process,” she said when he tensed. “It’ll harden and stop foreign objects and pesky fish from making the wound worse. After a few tolls, though, it’ll start to chip. That’s normal. Just wait it out until it’s all gone, and make sure to sleep on your sides.”

“Will you have to do the same thing to my legs?”

“Oh, no! There is a different ointment for that. But I’ll have to check and see.” She did, and tilted her head at what she saw. “These, too, are healing. You said you got these ahlia, yes?”

 _Ahlia?_ “Yes, they were from…around dusk. I blacked out a few times as they carried me.”

Dr. Corella hummed. “Nutritious waters, huh?” She left his side again and returned a minute or so later with packaged swabs, some type of translucent gauze, and a tube of ointment. With expert hands she squeezed the red ointment onto a swab and scrubbed around the injuries, giving the appearance that they were infected and swollen.

Steve watched all the while, fascinated, as she scrubbed the ointment around and wrapped his leg. Never once did the ointment break off the swab or his skin and swirl into the water, nor did the substance degrade. It was as solid as its cousins on land. “Wouldn’t all this be rendered useless by the water?”

The woman grinned and moved on to the next leg. “You _are_ a surfie, huh? Everything you see down here was created with the water in mind, to be dense and adhesive.”

“So people have been living here for centuries, at least.”

“For us, over a thousand years. By the way, return to me in five tolls so that I may change the wrappings.”

Steve nodded acknowledgement. “Don’t you ever miss your ancestral homes or try to get to your destination? And what’s a toll?” 

“The tolling comes from the big bell outside in our Heart. It’s how we keep time, and some of us have tried,” she admitted. “Our ancestors, I mean. Most never return. Those that do speak of fear, hatred, and murder. I like to think that some were accepted and their descendents live in the air to this day. I feel for them, though—they’ll never experience the weightlessness of the blue.” Dr. Corella stared at him, eyes gleaming. “What’s it like, Misuar Star, being as heavy as a rock, never floating?”

“It’s the life I’ve always lived, so it’s normal to me. But this,” he added with a chuckle, gesturing to the water-filled room, “this’ll take a few weeks to get used to.”

When the doctor had finished, she cleaned up her station and left the room, promising to return with documentation of his visit and treatment. Orange had disappeared while Blue remained within the room. Somehow, as Steve was being treated, he had soundlessly taken off his blue-gray suit, revealing the handsome merman beneath.

His brown hair was short and curly, his smile sharp and radiant. Sticking out from the sides of his head were expressive finned ears. His visible skin had faint red stripes as well as dozens of scars. Looped around his neck was a necklace of dark-colored pearls with a single sea shell in the middle. Over his torso was some type of shirt that glimmered in the white light, sporting a strange mix of geometric and swirling patterns. Blue’s tail was deep red in color with darker, thick striping, and he had snow white underscales. All along his body, skin and scales, were pale, orderly spots. But his eyes still glowed that hypnotic blue color.

Blue—Red? Blue Eyes?—swam closer to Steve with a smooth flick of his long tail, and when the light hit his body at the right angles golden flecks glittered on both his skin and his scales.

Mermaids were legendary for their beauty, but Steve never imagined anything like this.

Steve hurried to put on his boots. If he stared at Blue any longer he’d be spellbound.

Meanwhile Blue preoccupied himself with Steve’s _scild_. He admired the design and felt the metal. Then he tapped the edge of the shield with a claw, tilting his head at the deep hum the shield emanated. The red merman sang and whistled, tapping again and again in different locations.

By the time the doctor returned with a single sheet of yellow-green paper, Steve was fully dressed and had ownership of his shield again. He took the paper, which was surprisingly stiff and just as smooth as normal paper. Surveying it, he realized that it was a simple, neatly organized list of his treatment. But most surprising of it all was the English. Readable, yet foreign. There were words and phrases Steve didn’t know or even remotely understand. Beneath the list was a reminder to visit the hospital—Weifsafir Hospital, it was called—to get the wrappings renewed.

“The paper,” said the doctor, sitting down on a stone chair by the wall closest to the werewolf, “is a list of treatments you received. You may keep that because we can always make another copy.”

“I have insurance?” Steve asked, brows furrowed. “What about payment?”

Dr. Corella smiled and nodded to Blue. “Prince Tony personally ensured payment.” With that, she stood and dipped her head politely to the werewolf. “It was a pleasure treating you. Just ask the receptionist for me when you come back, and make sure to bring the paper.” The doctor signed to _Prince Tony_ , who responded in kind; with a bow, Dr. Corella left the room.

* * *

The hospital visit went well, much to Tony’s delight, but he honestly much preferred Strange’s expertise. Not to say Dr. Corella’s work was subpar, no, she worked with cool efficiency all the while carrying a conversation with Star. It was just that Strange had _literal freaking magic_.

Tony led Star out of the hospital, looking back every few tail flicks to ensure the not-human could keep up. Tony found it rather cute how Star was struggling to walk and swim at the same time, though he tried not to smile too obviously. Tony deduced from Star’s shield that he was a high-ranking member of the surface military—because, _really_ , who _else_ would possess a shield of such fine singing metal?—and such a man would probably not appreciate being mocked in a time of blundering weakness.

Out of the Weifsafir Hospital Tony paused, and the not-human flailed to a stop. The way he flapped his arms about—he looked like an upright manta ray.

Before them lay darkness, pierced only by various coral lights growing in the sand and on rocks and buildings. The street, lined only by perfect cubes in stacks of alternating twos and threes, extended out into the awaiting void-enshrouded community. In the distance, the red prince saw a group of humans expertly swimming about, from right to left, down the street.

“Look,” he clicked, pointing to the sea-humans. He turned to Star, but he had already noticed them. The not-human was mesmerized. Tony supposed he never once thought humans could live in the crushing depths.

As Star watched the humans disappear behind a building only to be replaced by another group, Tony thought about his brother. Arno had left the hospital while Star was being treated to secure a temporary residence. They decided on Coral Rise, a well-to-do neighborhood that was rather high-tech, having enchanted shells for keys. It was far enough from the edge of the shelf that Star wouldn’t accidentally sink—or be pushed over, but Tony doubted Star would be so fatally clueless—but still close enough that they could still reach him in a reasonable timeframe. It was also one of the few neighborhoods that bordered the edge of Weifsafir.

Well, off to Coral Rise they go. At least Star would get swimming practice.

Tony tapped Star’s shoulder and swam a few feet down the street. “Let’s go, Star. We got you a home for the moment.”

Really, Tony wanted to place the not-human in his Starlight Tower. Of course, it was at the bottom of the Subduon, but at least his big Star would have protection, humans to interact with and tutor him, and entertainment. Tony didn’t feel comfortable with the several miles that’d separate the trio once it was time for him and Arno to resume their royal duties. The strange not-Merrow from earlier unnerved him, and who’s to say he wasn’t amongst the formless rocks beyond, watching through a telescope? Star was vulnerable, easily trapped, and stuck in a world that he clearly never thought could exist.

He cast a glance at Star. The not-human was swimming more like the sea-humans now, paddling with his legs and pushing at the water with his hands. His body was miraculously straight. It seemed to work well for him, but he was a board of flotsam trying to blend in with seals.

Swimming lessons were in order, in addition to sign and verbal language, and history. Star’s stay most likely wasn’t permanent, but he should still learn about the culture, if only to navigate this world better.

Arno met them at the corner of Current Way and Whelk Way not too long later. Looped over his neck were three keyshells, carved into palm-sized cowries. He, too, had taken off his suit, his scales mimicking an ever-constant shadow attached to a Merrow torso. “I got him a three-level house,” he purred. “Now he just needs provisions.”

Tony grinned. “You leave that to me.”

By the time they reached Star’s new house—a beautiful conch-shaped abode with soft and hard corals adorning its stone exterior—the brothers had loaded Star up with seven jellyfish bell shawls; more than a dozen hagfish slime-silk shirts, vests, and pants; bone, gemstone, and pearl accessories; and plenty of undergarments. They’d bought him cured meats like eel, a few pounds of whale, and even seal imported from down south, and bought him a few leather bags worth of fruits and preserved greens. Tony had bought sheets and pillows along with shell kitchenware, but he fully intended to replace those with higher quality products from the stores along the Subduon floor.

Tony and Arno placed the many leather bags’ worth of items off to the side as Star explored the house, acting as if there were going to be traps around every rounded corner. Arno took it upon himself to start organizing the food and kitchenware while Tony took the bags loaded with clothes and sheets up to the second floor through a large ovular hole nestled in the corner of the ceiling near the kitchen.

The hole opened up to a large family area. Shelves were carved into the walls of the house. Tony could only guess what memories and accomplishments they used to hold. Beyond the family area was a hallway, opening up to the five bedrooms the house contained. Along the top of the corridor grew four pillar coral lights. Tony turned them on as he passed them, illuminating them to a comfortably dim setting, before coasting into the master bedroom.

Star must’ve seen him use the ovular hole; he emerged into the master bedroom mere seconds later.

The prince smiled and rose up to the coral light above. He set the light to the same setting as the hallway lights, bathing the room in a gentle sun yellow light, before he set to work arranging Star’s clothes.

For a few seconds the not-human watched Tony put away clothes in an alcove—complete with its own wall-length mirror—before swimming over. He lifted a seafoam green shawl with triangular orange stripes and ran his thumb over it.

“It’s popular here,” Tony said, and Star glanced at him. “I have a few of those myself.”

After he put away the clothes, Tony set his eyes on the sheets. There was a depression in the stone floor against the wall, facing the alcove, which already had a mattress no doubt provided by the head offices at Arno’s request. Tony set to work making the bed, placing the protector sheets on first before covering those with a leopard seal print set of sheets. Star helped where he could.

In the hallway, blue lights warped over a figure. Arno swam into the room with a slight flick of his tail and admired the alcove and bed. “Your sense of style never was lacking, Tony.”

“He just needs better stuff,” Tony chirped, swirling to face his brother. “I’ll bring him quality silk and linens when I return.”

Arno nodded, but his face was solemn. “We need to go. We’ve been gone for too long already.”

“So soon?”

Arno dipped his head again. “Father never liked it when we were gone for so long.” He swam over to Star and handed him a pouch of money, left over from the shopping spree and still containing enough to last him more than a month. “We have to leave now, Star,” he said, signing to him as well. “We may not be back for a few days. Please, protect yourself.”

Star furrowed his brow. Around his neck was one of the cowrie necklaces; they had taught him to open the door when they first entered the house, and he caught on quickly. He loosened the strap of the pouch and played with the money—the gemstone, metal, and carved bone seashells—inside. But after a few heartbeats he seemed to understand that they were leaving him.

Tony could only wave, smiling when Star hesitantly waved back. Then he turned and followed Arno as they left the house, locking the front door behind them.

A deep, deep sigh fluttered its way out his gills. Being away from Father was specifically the reason why they left the Subduon in the first place. The King had been pestering Tony about recent advancements in the armor sets he’d been developing, demanding test results and trying to coerce him into taking apprentices from the nobility. And, like always, such conversations both infuriated Tony and stressed him out—the forge and lab were _his_ —and Tony did what he always did: tinker with the Iron Merrow suit and take it out for a ride.

But Father would be waiting.

Fine. Better to get this done and over with.

The shelf ended with a sharp descent. The brothers coasted to a stop over the depths of the Subduon, over the heart of Eingara. Even through the four miles that separated the princes from their home, they saw the multicolored lights that twinkled like stars, signifying the Merrow-dominated markets, parks, and housing areas. All those lights clustered up towards a ring of bright blue and yellow: the palace.

Arc Palace.

Home, sweet home.

Tony scowled. He dove, pumping his tail as hard as he could to gain speed. The prince tucked his arms close. Blissfully cold water soared over and around his body.

Slowly, the twinkling lights got larger.

More than halfway down, Tony could make out more than three dozen saequus-drawn carriages, adorned with their own lights according to the owners’ tastes. Five were the same bright blue as the palace, one heading out of Mother’s favorite place: the market.

Tony suddenly hoped they met Mother first. Even though she took Father’s side in this particular argument, she was always understanding of Tony’s need for space and privacy in his forge.

When they were close to the floor, Tony spotted movement to his left. It was a carriage drawn by a pair absolutely massive saequus, who pumped their front flippers and tails to carry their load from the abyss of the Trench. Their reins twinkled with red and yellow jellyfish bell lights, and the turtle shell carriage they were connected to was adorned with the same lights configured into starfishes and conch shells. Sitting on the outside of the carriage, holding the kelp reins connected to the saequus’ snouts, was a human servant. No doubt the carriage belonged to one of the nobility or moderately wealthy families heading up to the market above.

Tony angled himself towards Arc Palace.

Bathed in pristine blue lights was his home, carved of imported peridotite slabs. It made even the most expensive buildings seem like shoddy stonework in the faces of perfect, rounded corners and a multicolored, polished surface. Separating the innards of the palace from the outside were two massive gated doors of olivine, also equally polished. At both sides of the entrance were numerous carved serpentinite statues, depicting Merrow guards standing at attention, each with their own individual saequus looking over their shoulders into the darkness.

Tony and Arno coasted to a stop at the gates just as a figure swam into view, parting the doors that easily dwarfed them. It was a soldier. The gray Cetacean Merrow dipped his head at the princes and parted the gates. “Your Royal Highnesses,” he said.

The princes dipped their heads in acknowledgement and swam into the long corridor that led into Arc Palace.

Colonial tunicates grew upside down from the ceilings of the hallways, providing blue and white light. Larger groups stretched for meters along the ceilings and even grew down along the walls, while smaller colonies dotted the ceilings, twinkling in the darkness. They had been placed in the palace a long time ago at the order of a queen to accommodate visitors from the tropics, and she liked the tunicates so much that she ordered them untouched. Succeeding kings and queens also took joy in them, only having the tunicates removed when they provided problems to their local environment.

It didn’t take long to find the current King and Queen. They were in the courtyard, coiled up on chairs. Between them was a small table that Father had commissioned when Tony was younger. Atop the table was a tray holding a bowl of tome type of salad and a stack of plates. Behind them was the Glowing Reef, genetically augmented corals and flora that shone a variety of colors and grew around the dozen yellow pillar coral lights meant to mimic the sun. The pillars had been set to a comfortable setting so as to not blind the pair.

Mother turned and beamed. “My sons! Come!”

Tony hesitated, but Arno flicked him gently with his tail. With a comforting smile, the elder prince led them to the table and they took their places between their parents.

Mother had set plates out and scooped the contents of the bowl into them. It was a kelp salad with chunks of poached eel, squid, and cod. Tony took a fork from the olivine tray and speared an eel chunk, looping a strip of kelp around it.

“You’ve had quite a while to calm down,” said Father with hardly a glance at Tony. “When can I expect to see apprentices in your forge?” In his youth, the King was a Mer of flirtatious words and charisma, but as he aged—his hair graying and his scales paling—he grew more serious. Now his words were clipped, his eyes piercing.

“I would much rather not,” said Tony, keeping his face carefully straight. He stabbed a ring of squid, working his fork through the tough flesh. “The more tails in my forge, the more crowded it will be. It won’t be safe for so many Mer to be in an enclosed, potentially volatile space.”

“I did not give you a choice.”

Tony wanted to pin his ears. “Father, I trust only myself with the greenprints for the armor.” Of course, he trusted his brother, too, but Father did not need to know that. As far as the King knew, Tony had built Arno’s suit.

“Then I will find you trustworthy apprentices.”

A battle lost, a battle begun. “Perhaps I should choose my own apprentices. Father, I want impressionable minds, not Mer that will fight me for ownership of my own creations.” And Tony knew a few noble-born Mer that would steal from him given the chance and turn shells off of his stolen work. The last thing he wanted were those untrustworthy slime-tongued Mer knowing the location and passwords of his most treasured thoughts.

The King was quiet at that, no doubt wondering how much leeway he should give his argumentative son.

Shimmering purple, the waiter swam to the table. “Is everything to your liking, Your Majesties? Shall I retrieve more plates? Bowls?”

Mother smiled at him. The Queen somehow balanced out the harshness that was her mate. She, too, had gone gray and pale, but her gentleness had only increased. That didn’t mean, though, that she never had her scathing reservations of other Mer. “Some dessert would be nice. Yes, dear?” she added, casting a hopeful glance at Father. He nodded absently.

“Of course, my Queen. Any requests?” The waiter took out a pen and paper.

“Hm. Seaberries and urchin eggs. Yes, that sounds nice.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He pivoted and sped away into the darkness of the palace.

Silence. Clinks of utensils—smelted from gold from human shipwrecks—against polished stone bowls.

Finally Father spoke. “Very well, you may choose your students. I will give you fourteen tolls.”


	3. (The Inspiration)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course this has nothing to do w the story, but while you're waiting for the real third chapter I decided to post the (unfinished) inspiration for AWIFY. Instead of Steve, Tony's the surfie in need of aid n education of ocean life :) This is the scenario where I came up with the Merrow but they were still considered mermaids (I headcannon Merrow and mermaids as different but similar species)

It was cold all around him, which was good, because Tony's body ached all over. Though the hospital wing of the Tower must've been cooler than normal--he could feel the currents of wind caressing his body. Tony really couldn't bring himself to care, not when his whole body ached all over. Attempts to move was met with his muscles burning with fire, and the billionaire couldn't help but moan.

A hand pressed itself to his shoulder--which was bare to the world, and why was he on his stomach?--gentle and slightly warmer than the air around him. "Hey, don't move so much, alright?"

Did Pepper hire a new doctor? Or was she always here? Whichever one it was, he did not recognize her voice.

The woman pulled her hand away. "Mr. Stark? You awake for real this time?"

He groaned, shifting in the bed as best as he could. Something heavy moved with him. "Yeah. Mm'wake."

A soft chuckle. "What did I just say?"

"You asked if I was awake," he mumbled. He blinked open his eyes but immediately clamped them shut. The blast of cold air along with the brightness of the room cause pain to flare in his head. Another groan rumbled in his throat.

"Oh, you really _are_ awake. Maybe. We'll see how your memory serves you next time."

"Who--" What kind of cold air was _so thick_? "Who are you? When were you hired?"

There was a long pause, so long that the billionaire would've dared to seek out the woman, to pick apart her expressions, if only he was brave enough to open his eyes.

"Where do you think you are, Mr. Stark?"

The doctor's voice was soft and filled with concern, and Tony's mother flashed in his mind, stroking his cheek as he battled a fever when he was seven. And despite the unnaturally thick cold air, something warm fluttered in his chest. "The hospital wing, obviously, though why I'm on my stomach is a mystery I'd love to figure out."

Tony sniffed and recoiled when the air sank into his neck. He yelped, his hands flying to his neck. Brown eyes flew open just in time to see a dark shape bolt towards him and yank his hands away. The woman--or _thing with a woman's voice_ \--held fast to the Avenger as he flailed, kicking up dust-- _dust_? Wasn't he in a sterile white room? And why was he moving so freely? Shouldn't there be IVs and medical gauze restricting his movement? And _why_ wasn't JARVIS _doing anything_?

A hum filled the air, or what whatever passed for it, and Tony found himself calming down. He allowed himself to be settled back in the bed, which, he realized, may not actually be a bed because it was tickling him, but it was comfortable enough, so he wouldn't be a pain about it. For now. "At least tell me your name," he grumbled as he set his chin on his hands, blinking pain from his eyes. The dust swirled about, catching the light, and Tony once more shut his eyes for fear of causing more damage.

"Ava Apoll."

A half-smile formed on Tony's face. "You know who I am."

"I do indeed, Iron Man," Ava said with a chuckle.

"Tell me the damage, Ava. Why can't I feel my legs? Why do I feel heavier?" A stab of cold fear shot down his spine, and something on his back, something _long_ , flared and quivered.

A few seconds of silence passed between them. " _Where_ do you think you _are_ , Tony?"

If he could sag straight into the ground, he would. "In the sea." Dust does not swirl so thickly, so slowly, in air currents, no matter how cold the air was. And this bed he was in? He only caught a glimpse of it, but he saw dark green foliage, perhaps seaweed. And the woman before him--she had no legs.

_Pepper. Rhodes. Everyone...they must think I'm dead._

Tony began to shake. What happened to him? How long had he been down here? Are the others still searching for him, or have they given up? No, Rhodey, his Honeybear, he would never stop looking. Pepper and Peter, his love and CEO and kid, they would pester the others to search for even his bloated fish-eaten flesh, for the tiniest metal shard of his suit.

Ava swam closer, placing three fingers on his spine. Like a mother consoling her child she ran her hand along his spine and up onto that quivering something. "Your tail is beautiful, Stark," she began as he trembled and struggled to keep his breathing in check. "Your scales are maroon and white with golden freckles. Like glitter. And your fins are gold and kinda see-through. You'll look so dashing under the moon."

The man chuckled, strained and desperate. "H-how long? How long have I been here?"

"Three days, but you were already turned when I found you unconscious."

"And my suit?"

"Your helmet is mostly intact, but I literally had to make ten trips for the rest of it, and I still may not have gathered everything. If you like, I can take you there later."

He curled up around himself, probably slapping sand towards Ava as he dragged his tail towards his chest. "Sorry." Tony cracked open his eyes, gradually widening them in the darkness of the shade, and focused in on the long limb that took the place of his legs. His tail was long and thick, adding seven feet to his already not-short height. It was truly a rich maroon color, with his underbelly being white and extending into his back in symmetrical stripes not unlike a zebra's. Like she said, his fins were translucent gold, and small golden freckles glittered all over his body, even on his skin.

It was then that a deep pit opened in his stomach, a little lower than it should be. Tony placed a hand over the sensation and frowned when he saw his hand below his belly button. The last time he ate was yeste--no, three days ago. He'd barely got any pancakes in when JARVIS alerted him to...to... His face scrunched up. Who attacked New York that day?

Water churned in front of him. Tony didn't bother to look at whatever Ava was doing. "Whaddya doin'?"

"Before I saw you I had cut myself some meat from a dead whale calf. I decided to save some of it for you." The mermaid placed a large clamshell in the shade by his head. Spilling out of it were wads of seaweed, and on the greenery were thick cuts of the darkest meat he'd ever seen.

Tony rolled to his belly and hauled himself over the side of the seaweed bed to stare down at the meat. Two of the four cuts, thicker than his pinky was long, still had the fat and skin. "You...you want me to eat this? _Dead whale meat_?" Yet his stomach begged for it. So he reached out and, with his _claws_ , cut out a clump of meat and fat and nibbled at it. He laid himself down half onto the sand, purposefully keeping his savior and captor in his side vision.

It was surprisingly good. Tony was more surprised by how his teeth sank into the meat with little resistance. A quick feel with his tongue alerted him to how sharp they were.

The light in his periphery was much dimmer than when he woke up, and his eye pain was down to an annoying ache. Tony cast Ava a sideways glance and saw the mermaid curled up like a cat two meters away, eating her own share of the meat. Her tail was mammalian in appearance, being blue gray with some irregular white spotting.

"How long will I be like this?"

"Oh, the change is permanent, _but_ ," she hurried to add when Tony froze, "after at least six months you'll get your human form back."

"Okay...six months. I can wait six months." Well, six months of _this_ appeared much better than the three months he spent under the eyes of the Ten Rings. Not preferred, of course, but at least he wasn't constantly fearing for his life. As of now. Besides, Ava had brought him his suit. Sure, he'd have to think _way_ out the box here, but Tony was confident he could repair his suit just enough to send the coordinates of his location to his friends.

"I said at _least_ six months. I know a maid who lasted seven years."

"Well, by that time I would've made contact with my friends, assuming I'm still legless." Tony ripped another piece of meat off, deciding to eat it with a chunk of fat. The fat added a flavor the Avenger couldn't place, but it wasn't unpleasant. With every swallow he felt his palate inch towards the sea. At the end of these _at least six months_ , the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist knew it'll be jumping with the dolphins.

They ate in blissful silence. As the minutes passed Tony took to familiarizing himself with his tail. Up and down, first starting with the tailfin and moving up until he could feel his pelvic fins, located where his knees should've been, being lifted out the bed. Then it was side to side, like a cat swishing its tail; then it was curling his tail so far to the side that he could rest his chin on the limb. He marveled at how fluid it moved, at how his tailfin swirled with the currents yet still remained firm, and for a moment a shred of excitement ripped through him.

"You're getting the hang of it," remarked Ava as she chewed on some meat. "Most who've been turned keep thinking 'legs' and not 'tail'."

He shrugged, pulling a chunk of meat from a slab and chewing it to a near-pulp before swallowing. "How do people normally react?"

"Panic. Denial. Terror. Y'know, the typical, 'Oh, my family! They're going to think I'm dead!' You actually handled it quite well, so thank you for that."

Tony couldn't help but chuckle. "You're welcome."

Silence again. The light faded away and with it went the ache in his eyes. Replacing the sun was the light of the reactor, bathing the environment before him blue while everything to his sides was swallowed up by darkness. Yet, despite that, every formless shape in the rocks, each bulb and leaf in the bed, the sand dunes and Ava's own seaweed bed--he saw them all in shades of gray and muted purples.

"Will this...will this stay with me?" Tony asked softly. He fingered the fat and the connected skin, all that was left of his meal. It actually abated his hunger when less than half of the meal--if he was human--would've stuffed him to the brim.

"Everything will," replied the mermaid in kind. Her torso was over her tail, an arm looped over the ridge that marked her spine. Her clam had been pushed over to the side, nestled in a gaping alcove in the rock. "The change is permanent, remember?"

The merman frowned and flicked his eyes towards her. She knew so much about this and he wanted to know why, but the suspicion in his gaze was quickly snuffed out by guilt. Perhaps she was in his position once. "Were you changed?"

Ava shrugged. "Yeah. I'm not one to play the my-trauma-is-worse-than-your-trauma game, but it's definitely up there on the list of things you wouldn't wish on anyone."

"Right," he said softly, beginning to play around with his tail again. He downed a few more chunks of meat. "Where'd you put my suit?"

She pointed behind him. "It's right over there."

Nestled against the furthest wall of the cave was a pile of metal. Forgetting about his meal instantly, Tony swam over to what was left of his suit--and nearly collided into the wall. His claws clicked on the metal as he picked through the scraps. At the bottom of the pile was his helmet, a large hole in the place of the left eye. The poor thing was dented and scratched. Tony gently took it in his hands, mentally urging JARVIS to wake up and greet him.

But nothing happened.

"JARVIS," Tony whispered. "C'mon. Wake up. I'm here, I'm alive!"

Nothing.

Tony gently stroked the helmet, his thumb rolling over the cheek. He imagined the AI's mainframe desperately trying to reach out to the suit, watching and rewatching Tony's supposed last living moments. He imagined Pepper, his beloved Pepper, cataloguing every move he took all the while ruthlessly questioning the team; Happy, sitting silently on the couch; and Rhodey, his Honeybear, blaming himself for not being there.

"Tony?"

Blue dust swirled all around him; he'd been slapping and flicking his tail against the sand. "You got a lab?" Tony placed the helmet back onto the pile and turned to face Ava, who floated a respectful distance away. It was then that he was struck with quite the dilemma: what in the world kind of technology did mermaids have? If he had to repair a metal suit with rocks and clam shells he was going to drag himself through the streets of New York to get to his Tower.

A sly smile formed on her face. "No, not me, but a friend of mine does. Of course, he'll expect payment for his services."

Tony began to float to avoid the sand catching the light and nearly blinding him. All it took was a flick of his tail and he was level with her. "Fine. How much? Does he take US dollars?" Of course payment would be late, _at least six months_ late, but as arrogant as he was Tony was a (mer)man of his word in times of trouble.

The mammal-tailed mermaid grinned, her eyes flashing an unsettling red-orange in the light of his arc reactor. "He doesn't take money, Stark. Food. Hunt for him." At the appalled expression on his face, Ava coiled upwards, laughing straight from her belly. "Ah, you have _so much_ to learn! Tell you what, we'll leave tomorrow for your suit, and when you get hungry again I'll teach you to hunt."

* * *

Hunting was...a trial. Of course, Tony wasn't hungry. He wouldn't be, not for a long time he supposed, since he was still full from the whale meat. But there was only so much of blue water and rippling light and sand Tony could take before he went insane. So he practically begged Ava to teach him to catch stupid little fish.

And now here he was. Hissing curses at a nth hand-sized fish that's darted from his grasp and behind a rock. "Avaaa!" he whined. "Tell the fish to slow down!"

The whale mermaid was chuckling, resting against a rock. "Speed up, Tony! Or perhaps you'd like a crab?"


End file.
